


Christmas Shoes

by marvel_fanfictions



Series: song fics [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Feels, Gen, Sobbing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done, actually, because I'm a bad person, charity - Freeform, christmas shoes, dont read it, inspired by a song, so many feels, so you can suffer with me, this is so sad, this should not exist, tuberculosis, why did I write this, yes read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_fanfictions/pseuds/marvel_fanfictions
Summary: "sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my mama please. It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size. Could you hurry sir? Daddy says there's not much time. You see, she's been sick for quite a while. And I know these shoes will make her smile, and I want her to look beautiful. If mama meets Jesus tonight."OrIn which everyone's hearts are broken by a poor innocent child





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this honestly made me cry while writing. This is inspired by the song, Christmas Shoes by Alabama. The first time I heard it I imagined this fic and couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it and I finally did. So here is this loveliness that is my messed up head

It was Christmas time, Christmas Eve to be exact, and Clint was running around getting last minute gifts for everyone- Barney, Laura and their kids, Natasha, Anya... the list went on, but Clint recounted all his gifts and make sure he had them all before going to get in line.

The tall blond stopped short as he saw a young boy standing in line. He noticed the dirty hair, which he was sure was almost white as snow if it were clean. The next thing he noticed were the wrinkled clothes he wore- consisting of a pair of worn jeans that were a few inches too short, sneakers, which one of had a big hole in the seams, and it seemed he was only wearing a t-shirt and a light jacket. In his hands though, were a pair of simple black flats with a small silver adorning bar on the toe.

The boy didn't seem to notice how out of place he seemed, next to the overly bundled people who were waiting in line to check out. He simple bounced about, rocking from his heels to his toes and back, repeatedly until he found something else to entertain him while waiting. Just as any normal child would in like at a store, and surprisingly more mature about it for a young boy his age.

Soon it was the boys turn to purchase his items and he stepped up proudly to the cashier, setting the shoes on the counter before beginning to speak. 

"Sir, I'd like to get these shoes for my mama. They're just her size, and daddy says she ain't got much time. She's been sick for a while, and I want her to look good in case she meets Jesus tonight." The cashier and Clint both wore similar expressions of surprise and the cashier nodded as the boy put a pile of coins on the counter. The cashier patiently counted the money out for the boy, and seemed to finish a little too soon.

"I'm sorry, son. There simply isn't enough money here." The cashier reluctantly informed. The boy looked up with wide, blue eyes, which stuck out as they appeared wet and clear against the smudgy dirt on his face before he started digging through his pockets again, searching for more money that wasn't there.

The boy finally stopped and looked up at Clint. "Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my mama please, she's been sick for a while and I wanna make her smile. Daddy says there ain't much time and I wanna make her look beautiful in case she meets Jesus tonight." He repeats, his voice cracking as he blinked rapidly, fending off tears threatening to spill before he continued, "she's always gone without, and she always makes Christmas good in my house. I wanna make her happy for once on Christmas Day."

Clint smiled warmly at the boy and bent down to set aside his things before kneeling in front of the boy. He pulled out his wallet and pulled out more than double the amount due and held it out to the boy. "You keep the change buddy, and tell your mama a very Merry Christmas for me okay?" He says. The boy looked at the money with wider eyes before going to take it, looking down at it before going to hug Clint tightly.

"Thank you sir. Mamas gonna look so great." The boy says before going to pay for he shoes. The cashier gave him back his previous change in a plastic bag to make sure he didn't lose it and Clint stood with his things once more. 

Clint soon paid for his things, noticing the boy walk off, proudly holding himself as he walked out of the store. Clint smiled sadly as he was rung up. He pulled out his wallet when a hand planted itself on her shoulder. "Here, let me get your things." A young woman with curly brown hair and a red beanie said with a smile.

"Oh no, I couldn't let you pay-" Clint said before he was cut off. "No no, it's the least I could do after seeing that. My Christmas gift." She says and pulled out a credit card, holding it to the cashier. Clint simply smiled and nodded as he stood back, waiting for his bags and nodded to the woman and her tall boyfriend, wishing them a merry Christmas as he turned to leave.

Clint thought long and hard about the night on his way home, having to pull over at some point, contemplating how blessed he was. He knew what it was like to lose parents at such a young age, but he had Barney. He didn't know if this boy had anyone besides his father, and it really upset him. He had to wait a few extra minutes before he could drive again.

Once he got home, he hugged Natasha tightly, kissing her deeply before he heard the patter of feet running down the hall and pulled away to see Anya running into the room. "Daddy!" She squealed and he bent down to pick her up, hugging her tightly as well.

\---

A few days later, Clint was reading the newspapers early in the morning sigh his coffee when he caught a glimpse of the obituaries. He read through them briefly before one caught his eyes:

"Sarah O'Reilly Rogers passed away on December 25, 2016 at age 31 due to tuberculosis. Born in 1985, to Mr and Mrs James O'Reilly, she was a first generation Irish-American. Raised in the Catholic Church, Sarah was very dutiful in her religious practices, attending ever Sunday with few exceptions. She was a loved housewife to her husband, Joseph Rogers, and an even better mother to her only son, Steven Rogers. She is survived by her son and husband"

At the end of the brief articles there was a picture of a young woman with her husband and young boy, with white-blond hair and bright, wide eyes.

Clint had the set the paper down, closing his eyes tightly as he drew a long, shaky breath and went to put his head in his hands. Christmas. She had to die on Christmas. He could only imagine how the young boy and his father were handling it. All he could hope was that she was buried with her Christmas shoes.

**Author's Note:**

> What are these tears you speak of? My eyes are just dry and are trying to replenish themselves...


End file.
